Comic Book Clichés
by Girl on the Wing
Summary: [One-shot] Kate was not the type to seek comfort from anyone, he knew, but something in the way her body angled itself to his told him this was not a gesture of comfort. JackKate.


**Disclaimer:** JJ Abrams owns 'em all. Screw him for getting me addicted to this show. It's unfair, really.  
**A/N:** The timeline here is rather confusing, and I apologize for the jumping around, but at the end it should make sense :)

**Comic Book Clichés**

He had never thought he'd get sick of the beach, but after for staring at it every second of every day for the past twelve weeks, it was starting to get pretty damn annoying. The gleaming blue-green waves crashing against the shoreline no longer seemed like the percussion orchestra of sand and stone and water, but rather, a backdrop set up purely as a repetitive, glaring sign that you are lost, dammit, LOST, and you aren't ever going home.

* * *

It's not like he could voice these opinions to the rest of the mismatched survivors on the island – they all knew the beach was there, it existed, it mocked them, whatever. He was after all, as Sawyer was so fond of reminding him, the "hero", and heroes didn't complain. They saved the world in time for dinner and kissed the girl and never got stuck on a fricking beach for eternity when their plane crashed. They simply used their superhuman powers to send a distress signal across oceans upon oceans and they got out of there.

Jack sighed, leaning his head back against his arms folded behind it at the base of the palm tree, sprawled across the sand. That was another thing he hated. The sand, man, it got _everywhere_.

* * *

As far as survivor situations went, he was well aware there was worse company he could've been stuck with. As it was, he considered himself pretty lucky. The majority of the survivors were just as resigned as he was in terms of their current predicament – everyone hunted for food (Sawyer complained about it every step of the way, claiming his early defeat of the polar bear gave him exemption), everyone did what they could to amuse themselves (Locke and Walt's backgammon tournaments were becoming the stuff of legends), everyone took care of one another (Boone and Shannon had actually begun the art of civilized conversation and were getting better every day). Jack was slowly surrendering the leader role to the rest of the group – they were all in this together, after all, and he wasn't sure exactly when everyone had begun looking to him for answers, but he never complained about it – people needed hope, somewhere to find some tiny shred of hope, and in his experience as a doctor, he had become used to supplying it in substantial amounts.

He had only ever met one person who didn't seem to need his offers of reinforcement – we'll be okay, just get through the day, don't worry, and all the other phrases of false comforts and alibis he could ramble off on command. Kate seemed to take no notice of his hero role, and he found it not only intriguing, but refreshing – someone who didn't care if he told them it would be all right, someone who would brush it off without a second glance over her shoulder. If the hero ever needed a girl to kiss, it was her – but somehow, he didn't think she'd up for the comic book clichés any more than he would.

Jack adjusted in the sand, closing his eyes briefly and listening to those damn waves – they were just as rebellious as ever, torrents of annoyance drifting over the shoreline. A breeze began to pick up, and sent a welcome current of cool air under his collared shirt that had once been white, but was now some shade of sand. He loosened his tie, letting it hang off his side over the shirt he'd unbuttoned to his chest. It was starting to become not only hot, but devastatingly so, and he had several names for the sun as he did the beach right about now. Luckily, the day was starting to wane, and he could see the sun sinking below the horizon lazily, turning the sky all sorts of hues of coral and sea colors, blues and oranges and pinks melting into one another over the ocean.

Another sound rose above the crashing of the waves and the soft breeze, a sound just as quiet as the wind, but approaching at a leisurely pace. Jack opened his eyes to see Kate's slim figure nearing him from up the beach, and he sat up carefully, leaning against the palm tree. She wore that same pensive half-smile as she always did, the one that offered nothing of all that was going on behind those eyes, but told you there certainly was something, and a mischievous, secretive something at that. She reached him, and Jack noticed the look on her face had lost its glimmer – the smile bared sadness, rather than mischief, and he opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but she eased down into the sand wordlessly and knelt toward him. She met his eyes only briefly before turning her back to him and leaning back against him carefully, her head resting under his chin as she fit against his chest. The sudden closeness made Jack's heartbeat quicken just a little – he wondered what could be going on. Kate was not the type to seek comfort from anyone, he knew, but something in the way her body angled itself to his told him this was not a gesture of comfort.

Jack felt his arm slip around her waist, holding her to him as they rested under the dwindling sun. He hesitated for a moment before laying his head on hers, his face pressed against her hair, and he felt her stiffen almost unnoticeably, if she hadn't been touching what felt like every inch of him. She relaxed just as quickly, however, and Jack watched the sun nearly disappear all together behind the miles and miles of ocean in front of them.

* * *

The bonfire later that night was the same as always, just like everything else they did on this island – it was the same survival tactics, the same ocean hindering any contact with civilization, the same forests and the same trees Jack had passed a million times looking for more polar bears to kill, or some other unsuspecting animal that happened to be passing. The disturbances from the invisible creatures of doom, whatever the hell they were, had gotten fewer and far between over the past few weeks, and though everyone knew they were by no means out of danger, it was at least somewhat comforting to hear the roaring and crunching of trees only twice a day, instead four or five times. Jack watched Walt and Michael across the circle of survivors straggled around the bonfire – Walt was chasing the dog around the fire while the Labrador galloped in the sand holding a very small stick in its mouth. Jack smiled in spite of himself, watching the sparks dance above the boy's figure running after the dog as Michael laughed and laughed in the sand nearby.

Jack rubbed his eyes as the fire before him became a little unfocused, and his observations of Walt's seemingly endless energy chasing that dog made Jack realize just how _tired_ he was. His muscles ached from hunting earlier that day with Hurley; they had gone in the morning, before half the camp was awake, and had put up a good chase for a couple of birds they finally ended up catching. Jack stood up and stretched, bidding Walt and Michael goodnight as he headed toward the tent previously functioning as a medical statement – luckily, everyone seemed to be keeping a nice trend of lack of injuries, and so he had turned the tent into makeshift living quarters with his small supply of medical care in a pile at the end of the tent. Jack lifted the tarp in the darkness, stepping carefully over his shoes at the edge of the sand, and settled himself into a somewhat cramped space as he lay down, his head resting on his jacket as a pillow. He could still see the dim glow of the bonfire through the thin wall of tarp, and heard the group talking with the occasional chuckle drifting off into the night.

He felt her before he saw or heard her; it was strange, in his opinion, this bond he was forming with Kate – it was something unspoken and carefully emotional, and yet physical in the purest sense of the word. Not just in the sense of attraction – Kate possessed a delicate beauty he couldn't ignore even if he wanted to, not that he would want to – but rather, in the sense of the need to be near someone, of a comforting presence – odd, since neither believed in comfort.

She knelt at the edge of the tent, hovering half-under the tarp. He opened his eyes, and it took a moment for them to adjust to the darkness when he was able to see her face, make out her eyebrows knitted as she looked at him.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered, rocking back on her heels. Jack shook his head, then spoke when he realized she probably hadn't seen his answer.

"You didn't." His voice was hoarse. "I wasn't sleeping, I was just – laying here." His laugh came out harsher than he meant, and he thought he saw a flash of a smile across her face. He noticed the moonlight casting a cream-colored shadow across her face, lighting her eyes as a silver color, and he reached out without thinking, his arm crossing the few feet between them as he pressed his hand to her cheek gently, circling it with his thumb softly. She tensed when his hand touched her face despite the softness of the gesture, but relaxed slightly when she met his eyes, and after a moment, brought her own hand to press overtop his, holding his hand to her cheek.

Jack felt her tremble under his hand, and he allowed his thumb to brush over her lips, parting them slightly, and he pulled her toward him without any force, but she fell softly toward him like a feather drifting in the wind, and all of a sudden she was close, much closer, so close he could feel her body pressed against his chest, make out each individual eyelash. Her eyes searched his briefly, and he slid his hand into her hair, tangling his fingers in her curls, and leaning upwards to meet her lips with his gently at first, until he felt her hand grip his shirt and her mouth close over his as she tilted her head slightly and responded. She moaned softly as the kiss intensified, and Jack's heart was pounding harder than when he'd been spiraling toward the ground in a crashing plane.

Kate gasped against his lips when his hand rested on the small of her back, his fingertips brushing her skin lightly where her shirt didn't quite meet her jeans. She broke away, her breathing heavy, and looked at him in the moonlight. They were both lying on their sides, facing each other, and Jack swallowed as Kate's eyes swept over him for a second before she turned away, facing the opening of the tent, and she moved closer to him, angling her body against his like she had on the beach that afternoon. She rested her head on the jacket, and Jack put one arm around her, his hand resting on her stomach, and one arm tucked under his head. He relaxed as he lay holding her, breathing into her hair, and the stillness of the night seemed more content than usual. Jack could see the faint stars twinkling against the blanket of nightfall, could hear the gentle waves crashing across the shore as the bright moon shined crystal light across the beach. He closed his eyes and listened to the pattern of her breathing with the sounds of the ocean until he fell asleep.

* * *

The morning aroused Jack in the form of a very cold, very wet nose nudging him in the face, and he shook his head and tried to bat away the intruder, blinking. Someone shifted beside him, and Jack's eyes flew open to see Kate's figure asleep next to him before his was vision was completely blocked by a great Labrador head with a lolling tongue licking his face. Jack couldn't back away any farther into the tent as the dog panted over him, but luckily they were interrupted when a voice called "Vincent!" from farther away outside the tent. The dog turned and trotted out of the tent as quickly as he had come, and Jack stared after him as the tent flapped in the wind, the shade separated from the glaring sun of the early morning by a line shadowed across the sand. Jack rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn, glancing down at Kate, who rolled onto her back, her face twisting into a scowl before returning to a normal, content expression of sleep. Jack eased up on one elbow and watched her as she slept, the curve of her jaw line in the shadow of the morning, the splash of freckles just barely noticeable in the sun. He pushed a lock of wavy dark hair off her face and let his fingertips linger on her cheek briefly before climbing carefully over her to exit the tent and see Locke tossing a stick in the surf as Vincent galloped after it, stumbling into the waves with no concern as the ocean crashed around him. Locke was smiling as Jack approached and looked up when Jack came up beside him.

"Sorry if he woke you up," Locke said as Vincent returned, soaking wet, parading the stick between his teeth around triumphantly.

"No problem," Jack said, gazing out at the horizon. The ocean was sparkling as blue-green as ever, and Jack sighed before asking, "Where is everybody?" The beach was unusually quiet for the morning; Jack couldn't hear the bickering of Boone and Shannon, Sawyer and Sayid, Sawyer and anyone, really.

"Sawyer took a bunch of them hunting," Locke replied, tossing the stick back into the ocean, and Vincent took off after it. "Some are still asleep. Michael begged me to get the dog out of his hair for awhile before Walt wakes up." Locke chuckled. Vincent came back with the stick, and Locke wrestled it out of the dog's mouth and threw it into the ocean. Vincent hurried away with delight.

Locke looked up as if something he'd just remembered something. "Have you seen Kate? They were looking for her this morning."

Jack glanced up at her name. "Yeah, I...she's asleep. She's..." he gestured back to the tent. "She just slept there last night. That's it."

Locke looked out at the ocean. "None of my business," he said simply, and Jack glanced at him. Vincent had just returned with the stick when both men heard a noise from the tent. Jack looked over and saw the flap of the tarp move for a moment. Jack turned and headed back to the tent, aware of Locke's eyes on him as he walked, and he knelt at the opening of the tent to find Kate sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She yawned and looked up at him as he came in.

"Hey," Jack said, crawling into the tent beside her.

"Hey," she replied, tucking her hair behind her ear and shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Sleep okay?" Jack said, watching her movements carefully. She seemed on edge for some reason; uneasy. "Yeah, it was fine," she said quickly. She ran a hand through her hair and looked outside onto the beach. "How is everyone?"

"They're out hunting, most of them," Jack said, trying to meet her eyes. "Sawyer took a group out. There's still a few people sleeping." Kate nodded. Jack reached out to touch her arm, and she flinched. He laid his hand on her arm firmly and said, "Are you okay?" She nodded again, barely, and glanced up into his eyes for a moment before looking away. "I'm fine," she said, and for a moment, he almost believed her.

"I'm going to wash up," she said suddenly, and pulled away, crawling out of the tent before he could say a word. Jack heard her greet Locke as she left, and he sat there in confusion, wondering what the hell could've happened between now and last night to get her so uneasy around him.

* * *

He found her by the little cove on the east side of the island; a shelter of palm tree canopies and half-shaded shoreline. She was sitting on one of the mossy slopes tumbling down into the sand, staring off into the distance as the wind ruffled her thin shirt and lifted her hair from her bare shoulders. Jack made his way down the rocky hill to the cove, and she didn't say a word when he sat beside her, their legs dangling off the rocks. The sun was beating down in the sky, but the cool currents of air hurrying by at intervals helped a little. Kate looked away from him, down into the blue-green water. After a few moments of silence, Jack realized she wasn't going to be the first one to speak, and he glanced at her.

"Did I do something to you?" Might as well ask her point-blank; he thought somehow she might appreciate it more than beating around the bush.

She glanced up at his voice, and her eyes flickered with something he couldn't identify. "You...forget about it. It's my fault," she said with a sigh.

Jack reached over and cupped her chin, turning her head to look at him, and to his surprise, she didn't pull away. Their eyes met, and he searched her gaze for anything, for one hint of what she was thinking, but the intensity of the look in her eyes gave away nothing. Jack could see a struggle going on behind her look that she couldn't hide – he wanted to tell her to stop keeping secrets from him, dammit, and just let him _in._

"I'm not going to forget about it," he said, keeping his voice steady, challenging her to keep eye contact with her, and she did, however reluctantly. "What's going on with you? One minute you show up at my tent in the middle of the night, the next you're out of there faster than you came in."

Kate shook her head, and seemed at a loss for words, something Jack found very strange to watch. Finally she replied evenly, "There's nothing going on. I'm sorry I interrupted you last night. It was a mistake." She pushed herself up to stand, and started to walk away. Jack stayed on the rocks for a moment in pure surprise before getting up and heading after her. He had to walk quickly to keep up, but not so fast it would look like she was running away from him; that was the thing about Kate, she had the ability to make things seem like something they weren't at all.

"It wasn't a mistake. Hell, there was barely anything for there to be a mistake about!" Jack took her elbow as he followed her, but she tried to shrug him off and ignored him. Jack wasn't about to let her off so easily. "Look, will you just stop for a minute? Kate!" He swung in front of her, and she stopped abruptly, almost crashing into him. She grabbed his arm instinctively to steady herself, and he watched her as she let go just as quickly and looked down, away into the sand.

"Why can't you just be honest with me?" he said, trying to keep his voice even, and she finally looked up, a glare on her delicate features.

"Why can't you just let it go?" she said, just as carefully, and he frowned at her.

"Because I don't want to. I'm not letting you go," he said, and he gripped her arm, refusing to let her run away this time.

"Maybe I don't want to be honest with you," she said, and her voice was so normal he nearly took it as a valid excuse before looking hard at her.

"Why not? Kate, look around you! What have you got to lose?" He gestured wildly at the empty beach.

"I could ask you the same thing," she said, the look in her eyes just as hard.

"I've got you," Jack replied without thinking, and he instantly regretted it, then set his jaw and watched her carefully, knowing there was nothing he could do about it now. She said nothing, but the look he'd seen flash in her eyes at the cove did so again, and he stepped toward her, shortening the space between them considerably, remnant of the night in the tent. She raised her chin and looked him square in the eye.

"Then I'm sorry for that too," she said, her voice almost a whisper, and he let go of her arm on instinct, her round eyes reflecting a fragility he hadn't thought possible of her, though her body was rigid with defiance. She looked away and walked past him, leaving him alone on the beach.

* * *

The group of survivors was gathered around Sayid perched on a piece of the plane broken off in the sand as he spoke, waving the transmitter as Jack approached, and Jack could make out the words 'leaving' and 'signals', coming up to the back of the group. He saw Kate standing by Sayid on the ground, her eyes distant, looking over everyone's heads, but not really looking at anything. Jack watched her carefully for any sign of what she was thinking, but as usual, she kept it hidden from everyone on the outside, a talent she had that drove him crazy sometimes.

Jack managed to glean from Sayid's speech that he and a group were leaving that night to try the transmitter again, this time in a different part of the island. They would be back in the next few days, and Jack took Kate's backpack hooked firmly on her shoulders as an indication she would be leaving with them, as well as Sawyer, Shannon and Boone. Charlie stayed behind with Claire, and the rest of the group seemed satisfied with the news.

When Sayid finished, the survivors began to dissipate, and Jack made his way through the crowd toward Kate. He wasn't going to let her go off into the forest with God knows what with the way things were between them.

He reached her side, and felt her stiffen as he stood near her. She turned half away from him, her profile framed by the wreckage of the plane gleaming in the sunlight. Jack touched her shoulder gently, and she nearly flinched, but held back at the last moment.

"You're going with them." He knew perfectly well he didn't need to say it, but Kate was so unpredictable he needed every assurance he could get. Kate nodded wordlessly, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Were you going to tell me?" Jack tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. Just another question, another reassurance.

Kate glanced at him briefly, then looked past him, at Sayid talking to Sawyer. Jack wanted so desperately for her to meet his eyes, just once, but she refused, the breeze casting stray locks of wavy dark hair across her face. "You know now," she said softly, studying the ground, and Jack closed his eyes in frustration. Why did she have to be so damn stubborn, why couldn't she just _talk_ to him? What was it about honesty in her feelings that she seemed to push away, just like she did him?

"Kate –"he began, but she cut him off, her eyes on Sayid and the group. "I have to go," she said. She started past him, but he grabbed her elbow and she swiveled to meet him, her eyes finally resting on his, and Jack trembled with her so close, looking at him so intensely.

"What if something happens to you out there, and we never get to do something about this?" He demanded. His voice became a whisper, so she could just barely hear him. "I'm not letting you give this up so easily."

He watched her reaction, and a mix of fear, pain, and something that resembled shame passed across her face in a blur. He could feel the heat coming from her, she was so close to him; her breath was warm against his neck as she did something he couldn't have been less prepared for if he'd tried: she took a step toward him and leaned her forehead against his shoulder, relaxing for the first time he could remember since they'd sat together under the palm tree on the beach. Jack froze, he was so shocked, but somehow his hand came up to rest on the small of her back, a gesture of comfort that made her tense up as soon as his hand pressed her thin shirt, feeling the warmth of her body beneath it. She let him hold her for a few seconds that passed seeming like years, then quickly turned and stepped out of his hold, following Sayid and the group toward the forest, ignoring the smirk Sawyer gave her that made Jack set his jaw in annoyance when he saw it.

He stood on the beach with the survivors stranded around him, watching her retreating figure until it disappeared into the trees.

* * *

The few days spent without her, knowing she was off in the jungle they had already seen mangle one of their own, were the most agonizing so far. The ocean seemed almost an attempt to comfort him, with their constant, unchanging presence, and it made him want to scream. How could they be so calm at a time like this?

* * *

Jack awoke to a clamor on the beach he could hear from the tent; people yelling, several voices arguing with one another, and someone running past his tent, then appearing in the sunlight as they lifted the tarp. Walt's round eyes met Jack's, and Jack's heartbeat doubled in his chest at the look on the boy's face.

"You better come quick," Walt said. "Kate's hurt."

* * *

The scene on the beach was a crowded, tense air of urgency Jack had to run through like trying to run in water. There was a group assembled around someone lying on the ground, and Jack could make out Sayid's voice demanding everyone to stay back as he jogged with Walt close behind him. The crowd seemed to part as Jack approached, and he ignored their faces, their eyes on him, as the picture unfolded in front him: Kate lying on her side on the ground, her knee twisted at a horrible angle, the sleeve of her shirt soaked with blood at a gash spread across her shoulder. Jack felt queasy for the first time in his entire career; he hadn't been prepared for exactly what it would feel like to see someone he cared about in the same position he'd seen hundreds of other people, people he hadn't known, people he'd never spoken to until they came to the hospital for help.

Jack knelt next to her, ignoring the din of noise around him, reaching out to push her hair off her forehead, and she trembled under his touch, though whether it was from the pain or something else, he didn't know. She looked up at him, her eyes searching for his so quickly he hadn't been expecting that, either, and the look he received was fragmented, a fragile, wide-eyed portrait of complete fear, something he hadn't thought possible from her. It was strange, how little he really knew about her, he realized as he pushed her shirt back to reveal the wound gaping on her shoulder, and he examined it with a dull notice in the back of his mind that something was tugging on his shirt, and he looked down to see her gripping the tail of his shirt so hard her knuckles were turning white. He slowly uncurled her fingers from the thin fabric and instead took her hand in his own, and she hesitated for only a moment before squeezing his hand and closing her eyes, her face contorting in pain.

"What happened?" Jack demanded, his mind racing with everything he needed to do, the medicine, the procedures; it was all a blur as he tried to focus on Sayid's voice explaining and Kate's hand gripping his.

"She was climbing one of the trees to get a better signal for the transmitter and that invisible _thing_, whatever it is, started rumbling a bit away from us and she fell. A branch must have cut her on the way down." Sayid's eyebrows were knit with worry, and he was pacing around Kate, whose eyes were starting to become unfocussed as she blinked into Jack's face. Jack glared at Sayid and leaned closer to Kate, trying to make eye contact. "She was climbing a tree?"

"We didn't let her. She insisted. And she was the only one who could do it, and we couldn't get any higher on the hills, and then that thing came and the whole island shook, and—"

"We need to get her out of the sun," Jack said, standing up and uncurling Kate's fingers from his own. She didn't protest, and Sawyer stepped forward. He sneered at Jack. "Need some help getting her to the tent, hero?" he said. Jack said nothing, just looked hard to Sawyer and nodded.

They carried Kate carefully to the tent, laying her on the spot she'd just slept the other night in Jack's arms. He felt guilty for remembering that now, and he knelt beside Kate, helping her slide off the thin white overshirt. He tossed it aside and lifted her orange shirt to her neck, but she pulled it over her head with some difficulty. Jack swallowed at her bare back, fumbling with the gauze in the pile beside her and pressing it to the open wound on her shoulder. He felt her sharp intake of breath as she winced in pain and gripped the blanket beneath them. He reached over and smoothed her hair off her forehead, holding his hand to her cheek; she was trembling and when he looked into her wide, hazel eyes, he realized how truly scared she was. It was somehow much more frightening than invisible monsters and polar bears to see the kind of fear radiating from Kate's eyes.

Jack began dressing the wound, whispering comforts to her and being as gentle as he possibly could. The next hour was agonizing for both of them; Jack hated that he was hurting her, knowing how it felt to have stitches plunged into your skin without any numbing medication at all, and when he set her knee in a makeshift brace, she let out a strangled cry, and Jack was by her side instantly, whispering to her that it would be okay, kissing her forehead as she closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, fighting the pain. Jack admired that stubborn spirit for holding out, and he knew she didn't like to be comforted, but at night, as she lay inside the tent, for Jack insisted on being able to keep an eye on her at all times, knowing she would be out and about again the first chance she got, she didn't protest when Jack lay next to her on his side, facing her with his head propped up on his arm, stroking her face gently, or intertwining their fingers together in the darkness. Sometimes he thought she even smiled at him in the dim light of the moon streaming into the tent, and it was times like these Jack thought he would never understand her; not really.

* * *

The plane wreckage was slowly diminishing as the group moved seats, luggage, and more out of the smoky, mangled mess of metal and fabric pieced together. Charlie was hauling a bag out from under the heavy plane wing, and Kate looked up from clearing the bags near the edge of the crash. She jogged over to help Charlie pull the bag free, laughing as he joked with her. Her eyes shined in the gleaming sun overhead, the curve of her smile lighting up her entire face. Jack watched from the other side of the plane, shielding his eyes, and came over as Charlie lifted the bag over his shoulder and headed off.

"You shouldn't be doing too much lifting and stuff right now," he said, and Kate turned at his voice, meeting his eyes with a slight smile. "Your shoulder...you don't want to tear the stitches. And your knee..." they both looked at the brace made of a piece of metal from the plane and some spare fabric tied to her knee to keep it in place, and Kate's smile grew rueful at the makeshift brace. She took a step toward him, her smile hiding something slightly mischievous behind it. "Doctor's orders?" she teased him. Jack allowed a smile of his own and touched the edge of her shirt gently.

"I need to check the wound. Redress it." Kate nodded and followed him to the tent.

The breeze blew back the tarp as they approached the tent; the sand was cooler under Jack's feet, and the sun seemed to rest behind the clouds, providing a soft glow rather than relentless heat. The waves were a blue-gray off the reflection of the sky, and the foam fizzled against the wet sand down the beach from the tent.

Jack crawled into the tent behind her, sitting at the far end to sift through the medical supplies piled up in the corner. He tried not to look as she slipped off her white shirt, dusty from the sand and wind of the past days, tossing it aside. He carried the gauze and medicine from the pile over to her, setting them beside her, and helped her pull off the orange shirt she wore beneath the white one. He faced her bare back, trying to ignore how close she was, the way a lock of hair fell into her eyes as she watched out of the corner of her eye, how he thought he could feel her heartbeat even when he wasn't touching her. His hands moved over her smooth skin, gently dressing the wound, feeling her shiver when his fingertips trailed the tear in her skin. Once, he brushed an especially tender part of the wound, and he heard her gasp. He drew back instantly. "I'm sorry, I didn't – are you okay?" His voice was barely above a whisper, despite the only sound being the quiet crashing of the waves down the beach. Kate nodded quickly and said, "I'm fine. Go ahead."

Jack finished dressing the wound carefully, trying to steady his shaking fingers. He set the gauze aside and touched her shoulder, her skin soft beneath his fingertips, and said hoarsely, "There." Kate tilted her head toward him, her eyes glancing over her shoulder at him, but she didn't move. Without having any idea what the hell he was doing, Jack leaned in and brushed his lips across her skin, right above the wound, and she trembled at his breath against her body. She leaned back, her head cradled under his neck, and Jack kissed her hair softly. Kate closed her eyes and settled herself against him, tilting her head to the side, and Jack barely thought before leaning down to kiss her shoulders, her neck, tracing her skin with his lips. She was breathing differently now, giving a soft moan when he kissed her right below her jaw line, and she turned suddenly, her face inches from his, and Jack saw the shine in her eyes, her eyelashes swept across her round, hazel irises, and he cupped her face in his hand. She hesitated only a moment before closing the gap between them, pressing her lips against his, kissing him urgently. Jack responded, his free arm slipping around her waist pulling her closer to him, so she was practically on his lap as they kissed, and Jack found somewhere in the back of his mind to think that she wasn't running away, she was _here_, she was here with him, and his hands roaming her bare back and her palm against his face, her fingertips brushing the scars on his cheek, her lips against his, that was all that mattered, all he cared about.

Jack's hands found her hips, just above her jeans, and kneaded them as the kiss intensified. His lips left hers and explored her face, her neck, tracing her collarbone, and she breathed in sharply against his neck. Her long curls tickled his shoulders, and he was finding his shirt entirely too clingy at the moment. Jack broke away for a moment, meeting her eyes, and she seemed unable to break eye contact. He looked hard at Kate in front of him; someone that, in reality, he barely knew, but somehow, he knew far better than he thought he did. She swallowed, wild-eyed with a fear Jack recognized as the kind you had right before the first plunge on a roller coaster. He started to unbutton his shirt, his fingers fumbling at the buttons, and she reached over to help him, though her hands were trembling almost as bad as his. Somehow between the two of them they managed to slide his shirt off, and she rubbed her hands across his chest before leaning forward to kiss him again, and again, and Jack found himself leaning slowly backwards with Kate on top of him, the kiss never breaking, and his hands gripped her waist to steady her, her bad knee laying at an awkward angle as she adjusted herself on him.

After a few moments, they broke apart, both breathing heavily. Jack studied Kate's face as she looked at him, touching his lips gently. "Jack," she whispered. He said nothing, his eyes asking her what she needed. "I...we can't – I mean..." she said, struggling to sit up off of him, and he took her around the waist, helping her to get into an upright position. He sat close to her, his arm still around her waist, brushing the hair off her face, watching her as she tried to find the words.

"I need some time to – to figure some things out," Kate said softly, and Jack tried to hide his disappointment. At this point he would do anything to keep her here with him, anything to not push her away, and he simply nodded.

"I promise – I'll talk to you when I'm ready," she said, and Jack stopped himself before he asked when that would be. He looked into her eyes and saw that she knew he'd caught himself before asking, and the gratitude he saw reflected back at him was worth it. She leaned in and kissed him once more, hesitantly, before turning and exiting the tent. Jack watched her leave, the breeze from outside ruffling the tarp after she was gone.

* * *

That was how he found himself lounged on the beach in the breeze of the dwindling sun, Kate settled in his arms, his lips pressed to her hair, her heartbeat slowly rhythmic with his own. The sky was a faded, rusty tie-dye, the wind ruffling both their tattered clothes, and Jack tightened his arms around Kate, afraid if he didn't keep her here, she would run from him the first chance she got; run and never look back.

Kate shifted against his chest, making herself more comfortable, and Jack leaned down and kissed her injured shoulder. It was strange how being stranded on a desert island didn't seem so awful when he was around her, almost as though she could make him forget the sense of hopeless hovering over the camp day after day. But it was more than that, he knew; it was warmth and comfort and healing and he was trying to think how he'd gotten along without it for so long.

For awhile, the only sound was the gentle crash of the waves rolling off the sunset shore, and Jack listened to the breaking of the seas into the sand, cradling the warmth of Kate's body against his. He had just closed his eyes, her hair soft against his cheek, when she spoke.

"Jack." He looked up at the whisper of his name.

"I need you to know why I ran away from you the other night," she said carefully, turning in his arms to look at him. Jack studied her face, thoughtful and determined, her eyes betraying her fear. She met his eyes, searching them briefly, before continuing.

"I've never been...I'm not great with – with – trusting people," she said, speaking the word 'trusting' as though it had the same meaning as 'living' or 'dying'. "You probably already know that," she added, a rueful smile crossing her face. "I just...I let my guard down with you. I don't know how it happens, but – it does, and I'm not sure I am with – well, with relying on someone else." Kate seemed to be struggling to find exactly the right words as to make him understand, and was being extra careful, he could tell, to make sure it didn't come across the wrong way. "It's always been me, Jack." She glanced up at him, her smile widening like it did when you were trying not to cry. "Never anyone else. I never needed anybody else. And now, here we are...and we have any idea where 'here' is." Her eyes left his to scan the horizon, the distance reflected into the exhausted, worried look she carried behind every smile.

"Do you think you can't trust me?" Jack said, careful to keep his tone neutral.

She hesitated before answering; the longest four seconds he thought he'd ever experienced.

"I know I can. It's just...it gets hard, sometimes," she said softly. "Not because of you, but because...well, at the risk of losing all respect from you for saying this, it's not you, it's me," Kate said with a small laugh, and Jack found himself grinning. He touched her cheek gently, and she kissed his fingertips, taking his hand in hers and smoothing her thumb against the back of it absentmindedly as she spoke.

"It's just going to take time, is all," she said, tracing the lines of his palm across his fingers. She glanced up at him once more, her eyes bright, and Jack nodded.

"That's one thing we've certainly got enough of."

_fin_

* * *

Whew, my first _Lost _fic! I hope you all enjoyed it; please leave me a review and let me know your thoughts; it's the only way an author knows her work is being read!


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